


Cold Comfort

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frostbite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adaar helps Cole get warm. Cole helps back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

                Adaar didn’t notice anything was wrong with Cole until both of his daggers fell into the snow, and he was staring at his shaking, red hands. He was not bloody; the demons they slaughtered yielded no more than ash, after all. But his skin was red. Cole swallowed hard, befuddled.

            “ _Aching, then nothing, numbness. Disobedient limbs trembling; tired?_ Cold feels different on my skin than in people’s thoughts.” He scowled at his fingers, which would not curl no matter how he asked. The young man winced, momentarily mulling over the cons of the humanity he was chasing. There was a heavy pat on his shoulder, and at last he glanced up.

            Adaar looked down at him, her dark eyes curious and surveying his state. “Are you hurt, Cole?” She picked his daggers up and sheathed them on his back before realizing what the issue was. She had gloves on. Cole did not. She sighed and looked around. Neither Iron Bull nor Dorian were anywhere to be seen since the group split, half of them choosing the left pass, half the right. She had no extra clothes to give him. Adaar sighed. “Do your hands hurt, Cole?”

            He nodded, but smiled. “It isn’t a big hurt. _Ghosts of gray, bathing in white, shadows shivering on the horizon. They sink like stones in the bright and lay away, planks aligned and the beach is glass. I cannot pick them up if I try._ I won’t be injured like that. I promise. It would only make you unhappy.”

            Adaar shook her horned head. “You are becoming more mortal, Cole. If your body breaks down, you will have no say in it. The world has lost more worthy warriors to the overestimation of their constitution than to the blades of their enemies.” She motioned for them to go into the wrecked remains of somebody’s house, now abandoned and filled with no more than dust and a few worthless pieces of cumbersome furniture. It was out of the wind, at least. With a small fire, it could have been cozy.

            He watched with wide eyes as she undid the buttons and snaps of her coat, then her shirt. She took his hands by the wrist, leaned down slightly, and held his fingers against her bare chest. His lips parted to protest, but only a broken whine emerged. Cole felt his knees threaten to buckle.

            Feeling rushed back to his fingers. First the pain, then the intimate pleasure of warmth. Adaar had averted her eyes from her own body and this whole embarrassing mess, but Cole found himself fixated on the place his thumbs were caressing. “ _Steel, pounded into place, chilled. War-forged is forged still. Hammer, unkind tongs, pinch and form from strife. More than my people, more than mere warrior, but less. Little lush, feigned femininity, unworthy womanhood urged towards utility._ ”

            “I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts,” she chuckled, shifting uncomfortably. He was squeezing a little, and she allowed it. He was only regaining his feeling, she told herself.

            He closed his eyes and smiled. “It was too loud.” His hand migrated a little lower, at her sides, caressing her ribs. “It isn’t true. You’re beautiful, Herah; you aren’t any less a woman because of how you look or behave. You see yourself as a woman, so you are.”

            She allowed her gates open to him, running her palm over the metal top of his hat. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re enjoying this.”

            “Soft, soothing smoothness spilling over the edge of my hand. Heat without hot, shedding heavy scales. Beneath your armor, there’s…” Cole pressed his face into her bosom. Adaar very nearly yelled, but his nuzzling silenced her worries. How could she be upset when he was grinning so widely, wrapping his arms around her waist, chuckling against her goosebumps? “Your heart is so loud. I don’t think mine ever sings like this.”

            His nose was being warmed now as well. He would be fine. Herah hesitated, but moved to run her hand along the back of his neck. She traced the spine to the very top, then rose higher and removed his precious hat. From her high angle, she rarely saw Cole’s face; but looking down at him now she soured against the wide brim. His eyes, so pale and kindly, watched her with an affection she could remember receiving from no one else. Herah pushed his bangs back and Cole sighed falling against her a bit. “It felt good,” he said apologetically. His lips brushed over her gray breast, tickling, an accidental tease. There was a low groan attempting to escape Herah’s throat. Cole’s chilly hands locked behind her, eliciting icy quavers from the Vashoth.

            She leaned down and kissed his forehead, perhaps planning to excuse it with the checking of temperature. Cole leaned up and pressed his lips to the edge of her chin, exhaling and pressing himself in closer to her. “You’ll be cold, too,” he said, staring at her half-exposed breasts. His voice cracked.

            “I guess you’ll have to keep me warm,” Adaar jested.

            Cole pulled her down onto the sofa, and Adaar, in her surprise, struggled not to crush him. He only laughed and pulled a little harder. “Not glass or twig or only bone. I am not fragile, Herah. You won’t hurt me.” He kissed her neck, following down contours until he could sink his teeth into her collar. Adaar gasped, gloved fingers clutching the old Orlesian fabric beneath them. “I won’t hurt you, either.”

            “Th-this is dangerous, Cole!” Even so, she arched her back and panted. Cole’s mouth was positioned then against her vulnerable chest. He kissed her nipple, the warmth of his passion rippling through her body. “If somebody were to find out…!”

            Cole held her face in his hands, rubbed noses with her, sighed against her chapped lips as she gave a desperate whine. She begged her hips not to roll, but the spirit had charmed her against herself. “I want to help you. Sometimes, this makes people feel better. I have seen them, _intimate writhing, a dance of skin and sound, for a short time, for hours. Tense, loosening until lost._ We can stop,” Cole offered, backing away a little, looking past her eyes and staring into her psyche as she swallowed hard.

            Herah leaned in. She suckled along his throat, grinning as his knees shook and he moaned, making excuses of himself. Oh how he insisted the ardor was meant for her as she gripped his outer thigh and he whimpered. He held on to her horns, almost pulling her head away; he could have if it was his intention. The sound of his breathing grounded him in reality, but the synchronized swaying of their hips was pushing towards a shared euphoria.

            His tricky hands found their way into her pants. Herah growled, making sure her knee continued to test his limits and brush his sensitivity. Cole was blushing mightily; Adaar loved how alive he looked with all this color in his face. The spirit-turning-human opened his mouth, perhaps attempting to say something, but instead managed to sob out a declaration of wordless pleasure. Just sounds, beautiful noises that echoed in the one-room house. He splayed his fingers out, a few teasing past her womanhood. Herah’s toes curled.

            She pressed against him. Cole’s head snapped back, eyes rolling. “ _The axe swings… Perfect split... spilling… over…_ ” He shuttered and held fast to her unlaced collar with one hand. His other fingers curled up and against her. Hera gasped and grunted, teeth grit. She pulled his hair back and looked into his eyes, in a haze.

            “You’re… tired?” She managed as his index traced a perfect line through her wetness, denying her the final little burst she so desired.

            Cole, though puffing and pink, shook his head. “Eager beyond the body. It won’t stop me. I only need the spinning to leave.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            “They look tired,” Dorian said, chuckling under the starlight. “Perhaps we should let them be?”

            Iron Bull smiled crookedly, peering through the cracked door at the snuggling couple. Cole wrapped in her arms, head against her chest; the Inquisitor’s legs tangled up in the spirit’s as they both snored quietly. “They don’t look like they’re gonna freeze to death. I say we give them at least until dawn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Final exams start next week, but I wanted to write something before I get swamped. I also haven't seen this pairing much (at all).  
> I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please comment; embarrassing as it is, most fanfic writers live for the comments.  
> P.S. I know it's a bit of a tease. If I get enough feedback and enough people want more, I'll come up with a far dirtier piece, I promise. Or if no more filth is wanted, another fluff. Do let me know.


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